


The Nuclear Family

by schantzscribbles



Category: Fallout 4, Supernatural
Genre: Alternative Future, Crossover, Deathclaws, Dystopia, F/M, Fallout AU, Fallout Ghouls, Ghouls, Lisa Braeden as Two Separate Characters, Lots of Characters Won't Come in Until Later, M/M, Nuclear War, Other Shit Like That, Random Mix of Fallout and Supernatural Characters, Sci-Fi, feral ghouls
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-11-14
Updated: 2017-01-08
Packaged: 2018-08-30 21:43:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 7,888
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8550190
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/schantzscribbles/pseuds/schantzscribbles
Summary: On October 23, 2077, the world ended with a blast. The Winchesters resided in Boston, Massachusetts, a final home after years on the run. Sam was home for the holidays. Dean was courting Lisa. John was on a hunting trip up north. Mary secured plans with Vault-Tec.Then the bombs dropped and everything changed.I do not own the rights to Supernatural or the Fallout franchise. This is purely a work of fiction resulting in a weekend of Netflix and my fifth play through of Fallout 4. Enjoy, and happy hunting.(Many subjects, tags, etcetera are subject to change.)   *Finger Guns*





	1. War Never Changes

Dean Winchester is 27 years old, but the lines of his face tell another story. 

The calendar reads October 27th, 2077. Published in red pen is the time for the veteran's banquet. Dean is young, but not free of the devastation of war. He lingers on the thought of the hot, greasy power armor and the dangerous battlefield. A world of depleted resources, yet citizens of the U.S.A. still manage to live high and mighty. "Sherry" playing on the radio, everything is perfectly peachy for every Winchester but Dean.

The door slides open. Dean jumps at the sudden disturbance.

"You okay, darling?" His mother, Mary, questions. She doesn't proceed into the room, seeing the fright she'd caused Dean. He lets out a shaky breath.

"Yeah, Ma. I'm fine."

"Pie is on the table, when you're ready. Bobby's laid out your clothes for tonight."

Mary smiles with her fire truck lips, slipping away. Dean follows behind, but turns toward his room rather than the kitchen. His brother, Sam, sits in a worn canvas armchair. Already dressed for the night's events, he reads the Boston Bugle. He could pass for a painting, if it weren't for the shag that was his hair. Mary described it as "ahead of the times." Dean thought of it as dumpster dwelling.

Sam smiles at Dean. Dean rolls his eyes.

"I'm tired of y'all treating me like some prissy girl," he grumbles. "I'm fine. Stop acting like Nuke Town test dummies."

"Dean," Sam starts cautiously, but he's cut off.

"No, stop it right there. The war isn't over, but my portion is. So shut up about it."

"You're right. I'm sorry."

Sam sighs, folding his newspaper and leaving. Dean gets dressed and emerges from solitude, his family waiting for him like a Norman Rockwell painting. Well, most of them are there.

"There's the idjit," Bobby, the most informal Mr. Handy robot in the world, growls. Unlike his British companions, the wiring of his personality went a little askew. He was great at social gatherings, however. "Wanna cold one?"

"What the hell kind of question is that?" Dean answers, taking the Gwinnet Ale from Bobby's metal manacle. He settles on the couch next to Sam. He reaches for the remote, hoping to find Casa Erotica on any of the channels, but Sam slaps it away. He settles on the news, much to Dean's disappointment. Behind them, Mary deals with a persistent Vault-Tec Rep.

Eavesdropping, Sam speaks up.

"Do you really think we're going to get nuked?"

"What?" Dean asks, 

"All this craze about vaults with the war," Sam continues, "it's just a stretch, y'know? There's no way we'll actually be nuked."

"Don't know, don't care. Have you seen my Grognak comic?"

"I can't believe you're the older one. Dean, this isn't a joke."

"I'm not talking about this, Sammy."

Systems fail at the mention of Sam's childish nickname. The conversation drops as Dean turns his attention to the barbarian, Grognak. Sam, annoyed, gets up. Idly, he plays with holotapes, books, picture frames.

After a centuries worth of Vault-Tec information, Mary shuts the door, sighing with relief. She notices Sam holding the frame that contains his law degree. A trifold flag sits next to it with a picture of Dean. Two tokens for two boys.

"If the world ends today, at least we'll all be safe," she smiles. Dean rolls his eyes. Sam smirks. No one speaks of the war any further.

The alcohol is gone, the pie is eaten, and the mood is lighter by the time the Winchesters start to clear out. Bobby is shooing them out the door, sarcastically talking about the chores he plans to accomplish. Everyone knows they won't get done, but no one cares.

Then all joking is put aside when a loud beep emerges from the television.

"We interrupt your daily television schedule to bring you urgent news," the announcer screams over the broadcast. The screen blanks, flat lining once again, but comes back to life with the news.

"Reports of flashes..."

"Bombs..."

"Weapons..."

The words drown in the wail of a siren. American troops pull tanks into yards, destroying prize winning begonias. Road blocks are erected out of thin air and everyone is making a mad dash for Vault 111; the vault Mary had just made reservations for.

The world was ending and there was nothing Dean could do stop it. All that time spent overseas, useless compared to the Fat Man ready to rain on Boston.

"Oh my God," Mary whispers. She gets her voice back quickly, yelling at her boys. "Get to the vault, now!"

The brothers take off, Mary behind them. Sanctuary Hills flies by in a blur, Dean getting one last look at all the neighbors not registered for vault occupation. This is the end of his apple pie life. Suddenly, he stops at the edge of the street. Sam runs past him, but Mary stops.

"Dean!" She shouts, standing right next to him. "We have to go! What are you doing?"

"Lisa is at Ranger Cabin, Ma! I can't leave her!"

"Dean..."

"Do not block the pathways! Everyone report to the safety of the vault or your homes!"

A soldier in power armor nudges them along. They meet Sam at the chain link fence. He's arguing with the guard about registration. Mary steps in, the three of them are confirmed, and they run to the vault's entrance.

"Everyone stand in the middle of the platform," another soldier, this time in green fatigues, dwarfed by the eight foot suits of power armor, commands. "No sudden moves. We are lowering you into the vault."

The operator of the vault door is yelling. He fidgets with the button and the terminal connected to it. Nothing is happening. Dean holds his mother in his arms. The strongest woman he's had in his life is being torn apart right in front of his eyes. The few neighbors that made it to the vault are whispering to each other under the sirens.

Then, with a flash of light, life goes up in a mushroom cloud.

"Holy shit," Sam breathes, but his reaction is muffled by the people shouting at the vault door operator.

Suddenly, the platform jumps to life. A gust of warm, nuclear wind blows over them as they plummet into the ground. The door regulates its speed and slows down, finally stopping. Gates open, loudly creaking, and the Winchesters file into their new underground home.


	2. Out of Time

The vault is quiet. Everyone is frozen in fear, except for the Vault-Tec employees. They usher people on as the overseer speaks of the features of the vault. Dean's ears still ring with the aftermath of the blast. He clings to his mother, once again a four year old in her arms. He glances back at Sam, afraid he may not have made it. Sam gives him a reassuring nod as they step into the vault, the gear-like door already open, welcoming them.

"Step right over here and grab a vault suit," a security guard instructs, clad in blue and yellow like the rest of them. The only difference is the padded safety gear covering his jumpsuit.

A perky representative is handing out suits to everyone. She settles Dean and Mary quickly, but excuses herself to the storage closet to find one long enough for Sam. Once he's dealt with, a scientist, the only employee not in a jumpsuit, directs them to decontamination room. Individual pods are set up, one for each person.

"Now, change into your vault suit and step into the pods," the scientist instructs.

Decency and embarrassment are forgotten. Everyone strips down without protest, disregarding others' body shapes, tattoos, or scars. They're all too shell shocked to care about nakedness.

Dean starts to ascend into the pod, but Mary pulls him back. Towering over her, he looks into the green eyes they share. She brushes a hand across his cheek and smiles, her face stained with tears.

"I love you, Dean," she says, as if it's her dying word. She hugs him, then turns toward he youngest. All Dean can do is smile weakly at his mother and brother. Once loaded into the pod, he waves lightly. They wave back, across from him.

The temperature drops rapidly. Ice spider webs across the glass. An electric voice calmly counts down, but before Dean can react, he's out cold.

/:\

He's freezing. His eyes open, weighed down with chilled water. The glass of the decontamination pod is foggy, but he can make out two figures as they fiddle with the controls of his brothers pod. He sees Sam, breathing hard, soaking wet. His mother is soaking, too, as she bangs on the door of her pod, trying to open it.

One of the figures, a heavyset woman clad in a hazmat suit, messes with the dials of Sam's decontamination pod. The door swings open and Sam stumbles out. He makes a beeline for his mother, but the second person, a man, grabs his arm. He's stout with short blonde hair and nasty red pock marks sprinkling his face.

"He's the one," he growls, pushing Sam to the ground. Dean bangs and shouts at his pod window, but no one glances his way.

"What about the others, Luci?" His partner asks. She stands cautiously, hand hovering over a laser pistol strapped to her leg. Sam is too shaky to move, shocked by the sudden reawakening.

"Leave 'em. They'll suffocate like the ones in Chamber one."

"Warning: Systems Failure," an automated voice rings over static speakers. Intruding sirens accompany it. "Cryogenic Pod Number 11 has been breeched."

Out of the pod next to Sam's, Mary stumbles out. Her lipstick is smeared, hair hanging in loose wet curls. She shakes on her unsteady legs, but squares up against the man by the man named Luci. Dean knows how this scene will play out as his voice grows louder. He messes with the hinges, hits on the glass, but his efforts are futile.

No one can hear him and he cannot get out.

"Stay the hell away from my son," Mary coughs, voice hoarse. She pounces at the man, but he grabs her by the throat.

"Looks like you chose the hard way," he breathes.

"You're not taking my boy," she chokes. "I won't let you have Sammy!"

In one swift motion, Luci throws Mary into Sam's pod. He pulls out a .44 caliber pistol, pulls back the hammer, and with a loud bang, she falls limp. The tears are running down Dean's cheeks as he scream for his mother. Sam moves to attack Luci, but he's pistol whipped in the temple.

"Stay down, behemoth!" Luci turns toward Dean. Dean freezes, staring the man coldly in the eyes. "If all else fails, at least we have one backup."

Laughing, he walks away as the woman closes Mary within Sam's pod. Dean feels the temperature dropping around him and watches as the water turns back into glass. His vision turns black and he's once again in a frozen sleep.

/:\

White light blinds Dean's vision. Sirens blare in Dean's ears, but they're different from the ones he heard this afternoon when the bombs fell. At least, he believes it's still October 23.

He slips on the ice covered ground, landing awkwardly on his ankle. Cursing, he looks around at the frozen mess that is Chamber 2 Decontamination Pods. However, the voice accompanying the sirens states they are cryo pods.

"They lied to us," he says hoarsely, hoping someone will hear him. But no one is around.

Dean stumbles toward his mothers pod. He yanks at the door, but it refuses to budge. Seeing the control panel, he messes with the buttons and levers, hoping to free Mary's lifeless body. As the results fail his expectations, he loses it.

"God dammit!" He screams, his voice echoing with the system emergency warnings. "Open! Just open!"

A combination of buttons and levers finally opens the door. It swings up, nearly clipping Dean in the chin as he stands so close. He reaches for his mother, hoping, praying, she'll respond.

Her body is frozen still. She's stiff, unmoving, not breathing. The blood is frozen in her solid hair, eyes staring into oblivion. Dean reaches to touch her, but she's as hard as a marble statue. With great difficulty, he pries open he left hand, slipping off the ring given by a deadbeat husband. Dean wipes the tears from his cheeks.

"I'm gonna find the bastard who did this, and I'm gonna kill 'im. And, I'll get Sammy back. I promise."

Mary doesn't respond.

He examines the others, but every person in every pod is frozen, dead. He's completely isolated.

Weakly, Dean moves through the vault, going the way he entered. The door is shut, locked. A toolbox sits in front of it, but none of the tools help him to escape. He moves to the next door, hoping to find another way out, even if it takes longer.

A radio plays through the metal tunnels. Cole Porter has never been ominous. But, alone and afraid, echoing in the tomb of his mother, Dean couldn't stop the cold sweat dripping down his forehead. He realizes he's completely alone.

"Anything goes, everything goes," he thought. This time, he speaks up. "Is anyone here?"

A faint buzzing stands out against the Broadway radio music. Dean switches the electronic door knob, sending the vault door sliding into the wall. He walks down another metal hallway, but unlike the others, recreational rooms line the walls. Untouched bunks, molding books, and rusting metal tables make up living quarters and kitchens.

This was his new home, but now there was no one to share it with.

He rounds the corner and the buzzing sound grows stronger. Flying from the rafters, a cockroach the size of a small dog leaps onto Dean. Mandibles sink into his arm. Screaming, Dean rips the mutated creature from his body, throwing it to the ground. He crushes it under his boot. It explodes into yellow mucus. Not quite an enemy, the bug sure was a nuisance.

"Giant roaches," he sighs. "What the hell is going on?"

Weaving his way through the vault, he comes across more roaches, squishing out their insides on his way. Then, the skeletons appear.

The first one wears a tattered vault suit. It lays under the electrifying bolts shooting from the power source. The poor guy, most likely having been electrocuted, has his arms outstretched. He was trying to escape, just like Dean. At least he made it further than the others.

The next room is more disturbed. Files are skewed across the floor. The skeleton of a scientist is spread eagle, chest down on a desk. A knife protrudes from its spine and all Dean can think about is Luci and his pocked face. Everyone is dead and he's not afraid to blame it on the man that took his brother and killed his mother.

He pushes aside the skeleton, wiping the dust off a terminal as it boots up. Next to the terminal sits a ten millimeter pistol, several boxes of ammo and three stimpacks laid out nicely. Dean grabs an ammo bag from the desk drawer and takes the merchandise. Whatever is out there, he best be prepared.

The terminal lights up green, codes zipping across the screen. Finally, the home page is up. Dean scrolls through the logs and activities, finding the evacuation plan. Life gives him a short break by not password protecting the evacuation override. The door to the tunnel shoots open and Dean runs out, ready to leave Vault 111.

With a few more twists, turns, and roaches, he's in the lobby. Another skeleton awaits him, collapsed by the vault door controls. A dirty Pip-Boy is clipped around the exposed bone. Dean swipes in from him, starting the technology up and locking it to his own wrist. He's seen a Pip-Boy before and knows how to use them. Removing the key-like appendage, he plugs it into the door control panel. A twist and the slam of a button and orange lights surround him. The gear door rolls away and he sees it, the platform ready to take him home.

Barely containing himself, he rushes to the platform, helping the rusty gate rise up. He presses the button and ascends.

It's a long ride up. The white-hot sunshine blinds him as he covers his eyes. They adjust and he sees Sanctuary Hills below him. It stands, houses rotting or collapsed in ruins. Every tree around him is dead. Skeletons litter the land around the vault.

This was not the home Dean Winchester left behind.


	3. The Past and the Present

The new world is silent. No birds chirping or leaves rustling. Dean's blood pumps in his ears, loud, throbbing. He turns away from Sanctuary, but the sting is still there. Stepping of the vault platform, he makes his way across dead earth to his home. Everyone at the gate from earlier is dead, skeletonized. The creek around Sanctuary is dried up, the bridge gone.

The houses are left in ruins. Even the ones standing have little to be proud of. Steel panels are ripped from the sides and roofs are fallen. Garbage and debris covers the ground thickly. Even though the bomb wasn't dropped here, weapons have definitely passed through and left a fair share of destruction. Saddened, Dean faces the futuristic blue 50s style house that was his home.

A crash comes from inside the house and Dean ducks for cover. His 10 mm is in his hand as he glances through the doorway, ready to shoot whatever monster dares to face him. A slight rustling noise grows closer and closer. He jumps out and fires a bullet into the metal sphere that is Bobby.

"Balls!" Bobby wails, his robotic casing unharmed. His once shiny steel My. Handy body is scratched and covered with grime. The small rocket that holds him afloat struggles to spit enough flames for movement.

"Bobby?"

The robot turns toward him.

"Well, I'll be damned. Dean? I-is that really you?"

Dean steps forward, ready to embrace his old companion, but is shoved back as a saw blade tears into his upper arm.

"What the hell was that?" He shouts, his homecoming no longer sentimental.

"How am I supposed to know if you're real or not?"

"Dammit, I just need your help. Please."

"Dean..."

"Bobby! It's me! I just crawled out of that vault only to find everyone is dead! What is going on? Where is everyone?"

"Oh my God, you don't know."

"Know what?"

"Dean, it's been 200 years since the bombs fell. Even if others had survived the war, they wouldn't be here."

"200 years?"

"Yeah, but what I want to know is how the hell are you here? You've got seconds to start explaining, or I'll roast you like a radroach."

Dean watches as Bobby aims the arm hooked up with a torch. He hears the gas leaking from it and knows that Bobby isn't kidding.

"We were frozen. All of us. It was some protocol or experiment, I don't know. Then I woke up and these two people shot Ma and took Sam. Sam... Bobby have you seen Sammy? Have you seen anyone come through here recently?"

"Lot's of people come through here, but no one's gone up to the vault. And as for Sam, well, last time I saw him, you two were running for your lives as the bombs dropped."

Bobby continues, speaking of the 200 years that Dean was frozen for. Dean is zoning out, not catching a word the robot is saying. He pushes past Bobby, into his ruined home. The furniture is torn, rotted. Holotapes are thrown and crushed on the floor, their labels still readable.

Sammy's Graduation.

Dean's First Baseball Game.

John and Mary's Wedding.

 

Torn and faded pictures accompany the litter of the house. Every memory they'd ever saved is gone or torn to shreds.

A bit of glass crunches under his boot. He looks down to see the trifold flag of his nation, the nation he fought for. The nation that lost a terrible war. Next to it is a picture frame. The frame and glass are scratched and broken, but the picture remains untouched, faded at the most. Dean reaches for it, brushing off leaves and dirt. It's the last family photo they had taken, after Dean had returned from his deployment.

It's a traditional photo. John and Mary stand close in the back, each with a hand on a son. Mary's hand squeezes Dean's shoulder as she smiles, wearing the same lipstick the day the world ended. Dean is sitting next to Sam, who looks annoyed, as if he's running late for something. John's hand is on Sam's shoulder, but the grip is loose and haphazard. He had been drinking that morning before their photo.

Dean breaks the frame, removing the photo. He places it in a small pocket on the ammo bag slung on his shoulder. He can't let any harm come to that photo.

The rest of the house is in as large of disarray as the rest. However, on the kitchen counter sits a small box. Bobby explains to Dean that he had been trying to collect and salvage as many undamaged items as possible. 200 lonely years can truly affect a man, even if he is just a robot. Dean looks through the box.

Comic books, clothing items, Sam's law degree, baby bottles that Mary had insisted on keeping, plus many other various knickknacks and junk crowd the box. It all used to seem so meaningless and now it was all he had. Bobby hovers over Dean's shoulder. His metal manacle holds one holotape, pristine in quality.

"Your mother was saving this for you," he says quietly, handing it to Dean.

Dean loads the tape into his Pip-Boy as Bobby hovers away, leaving him be. The label on it reads, "Fall 2050," months after Dean was born. As the static at the beginning of the tape fades, he hears his mother's voice. A baby giggles and Dean smiles, knowing that was him, even though he didn't remember it.

"Fingers away from the recorder, Dean-o," his mother giggles, the quality slightly crackling. "Hey, hey... No we don't chew on that... Dean..."

He hears shuffling as his mother was tying to control him, but she continues when he's settled.

"Alright, Dean. We've been working on it for awhile now. Can you say Mama? Come Dean-Bean, say Mama."

He hears his infant self giggle and squeal. Unintelligible words pour from the speaker, none even close to mama. Mary's laughs join Dean's in the tape.

"Come on, Dean. Mama. Mama! I know you can say it. Then we can show Daddy when he gets home. Mama!"

"Ma," infant Dean gurgles. He can almost hear the spit rolling down his young chin. "Ma. Mamamama!"

Mary laughs, congratulating Dean. She's so proud of her little boy.

The tape ends.

"I'd never heard that one before," Dean sighs, placing the tape with the photo.

"She was saving it for when you settled down," Bobby says quietly. Dean turns to him, smiling slightly. He can feels the tears on his cheeks, but he doesn't wipe them away. They dry, itchy and salty on his skin.

"I need to go find Sammy," he says. "But I promise I'll be back."

"Good luck, son."

/:\

Concord was the town neighboring Sanctuary Hills. It was quaint, small houses, small businesses. The Museum of Freedom stood proud in the city center, celebrating the once living country. Dean stands at the edge of town, looking down on it from the Red Rocket gas station. Hearing and seeing no one, he turns away, heading into the once wooded area.

Lisa Braeden's family own a cabin not too far away.

It's covered in dead vines. The roof is still intact, unlike the houses in Sanctuary. The rusted frame of her truck is just another trash statue from the pre-war world. More astronomically sized insects pour out through the empty doorway. It isn't hard capsizing a giant mosquito, several flies, and another roach. He remembers what Bobby called them in his stories.

The new mosquitos are Bloodbugs.

The flies are Bloatflies.

The roaches are Radroaches.

Everything is so alien to him in this new world.

Wiping the yellow mucus from his jumpsuit, now adorned with bits and pieces of armor he'd found on a fresh corpse outside of Sanctuary, he enters the house. Like his home, it's just the shreds left of pleasant memories. The furniture is broken with irradiated moss clinging to it. He observes the damage, then his eyes fall on the bed.

It's just a mattress, now. The frame is in pieces around it. A skeleton in a faded green dress in curled up in a fetal position. It clutches onto a photo, a photo of Dean.

Lisa.

He drops to his knees, the blow adding to the open wound created by his kidnapped mother and his dead mother.

"Of course," his voice cracks, tears in his eyes. He shakes his head over and over, not letting the tears fall. "Of course."

He turns his attention to the suitcase next to her. A dress, some bubblegum, and a holotape remain. The rest had probably been raided by some nasty creature or any humans somehow managing to live in this world. He pops a piece of bubblegum in his mouth and loads the holotape, expecting it to be a mix of songs or a birthday recording.

It's not.

"Dean doesn't know I'm coming tonight," Lisa's voice crackles in the speakers. "I'm going to surprise him at the veteran's hall. Mary knows I'm coming. Mary knows, well uh, she knows I'm pregnant."

Dean looks up, staring off into nowhere, mouth hanging open. Lisa giggles.

"I can't wait to tell him," she continues. "He's been going through so much and I just... I want to see him happy again... It's been so long."

She sighs. He can hear the tears building in her throat.

"I love him."

Dean bolts from the cabin, straight to Concord, not even glancing back at the life he had lost.


	4. When Freedom Calls

Dean returns to the Red Rocket gas station. He investigates the inside, finding nothing but workbenches in the garage, a bed behind the counter, and a terminal with pre-war logs on it. Under the bed is a small box, the words "Cap Stash" written on the duct tape that seals it. He pries the box open, being greeted by a waterfall of bottle caps raining onto the floor.

"Why the hell would somebody hold onto this?" He asks himself, kicking the bottle caps under the bed.

In the midst of bottle caps scraping the floor, Dean hears he front door creaking open. He pulls out his gun, ducking down behind the counter. He peeks around the side, seeing nothing. As he turns around, hot, sour breath blows into his face from a rogue Rottweiler. He jumps to his feet, so frightened he nearly fires a bullet into the ceiling.

The Rottweiler stands there panting. She doesn't pounce or growl. Dean backs up, uncertain of the glistening fangs that occupy her mouth. She follows Dean, jumping up on him, barking playfully. He realizes she means no harm, and kneels down, petting her.

"Hey girl," he coos, "where are your owners?"

She barks, then runs outside. Dean follows her as she heads toward Concord. The town is deserted and quiet. Shells of buildings stand abandoned. Doors and windows of many of the buildings are boarded up, presenting that someone was here, be it recent or almost 200 years ago. Dean keeps his gun in his hand, cocked and ready to fire. He follows the Rottweiler until he hears the popping of guns and bullets.

She stops to, growling as she lowers into a hostile stance. In the distance, a ragtag group of people shoot at the balcony of the Museum of Freedom. One man, armed with a laser musket, takes on the six or so group of raiders.

"You'll be sorry you stepped into our territory!" One of the bandits yells. However, he's quickly shut up as the laser from the musket vaporizes him into a pile of red ash. However, the loss of a team member doesn't phase the others.

Dean jumps into action, shooting at the raiders from behind. The man with the laser musket sees his effort and ups his job defending himself and the museum. Dean cripples one raider. She's down on one knee, screaming. The Rottweiler finishes her. Across the street, another raider runs at Dean, swinging an oddly modified lead pipe. The blades chained to the end catch on his armor, but other than that, he's safe.

"You killed her!" The raider screams, but is silenced as a red laser bursts through his chest. He falls limp to the ground.

"You there!" The man from the balcony yells in desperation. His dark face is glistening with sweat, eyes wide with fear. "It won't be long before the rest of their gang catches up! I've gotta group of settlers trapped in here! Take that laser musket and please help us!"

The man disappears inside the museum. Dean swaps his 10mm for a laser musket loaded with fusion cells. He looks back at the bodies scattered on the road, but shakes off any doubtful thoughts as he pushes open the door.

The inside of the museum isn't much better than the anarchy of the world outside. Raiders on ever level take aim at Dean, drawing their attention away from the trapped settlers.

"Fresh meat!"

One by one, the raiders fall, Dean's laser musket much more productive than the 10mm. He rushes to the gate to the stairs, but it's locked. Above him, raiders move closer to the barricaded door the settlers hide behind. He makes a beeline for the exhibit, rushing through colonial music and recordings, knocking down mannequins dressed as red coats. Raiders hide at every corner, but the higher his death count rises, the easier it is to kill them.

Dean isn't sure what to think of this new lifestyle.

Finally, the raiders are dead in a sickly blur and the settlers pull him into the dilapidated and cluttered museum office. The Rottweiler runs to a man with wild brown hair, his face unshaven.

"I told you Baby would find someone," he says, "the sight never lies about the future."

"Not now, Chuck," the man with the laser musket sighs. He's like a living museum exhibit, dressed in a colonial outfit, a militia man. He smiles the most innocent and thankful grin of all time. He shakes Dean's hand with a firm thanks. "I thought for sure we were dead. I'm Preston Garvey, leader of the Minutemen, or, what's left of it... Thanks for taking out those raiders."

"The Minutemen?" Dean questions.

"Wow, we really have been gone long... We are the Minutemen," Preston explains, "a group devoted to the safety of settlers and their homes. It's a struggle living in the Commonwealth, even with large groups of people to keep a settlement strong. Raiders, super mutants, gunners, anyone and everyone, or thing, have their crosshairs pointed at the helpless. We work to make sure that they don't have to live with that fear."

"I don't understand," Dean starts, frustrated. "What happened to the world? Why is everything just... so backwards..."

Preston raises his eyebrows, unsure of what to say.

"Are you feeling alright, sir?"

"No, no I'm not. I've been a frozen dessert for 200 years, and now the world has gone to shit!"

"200 years...?"

"Vault-Tec experiment, and quite a shitty one, too."

"Wow... Well, if it helps at all, you can stick with us, once we find a place to stay. They're used to be 20 of us, and now, well, there's five."

Dean looks at the cowering settlers. Unlike Preston, they aren't armed or protected. These are normal people; they're farmers, the remnants of families, and innocents. The only man they have to protect them is at his wits end, fighting with as much vigor as the soldiers that stood by him only last week.

"No," Dean sighs, "I'm here to help you. You all need it more than me. Whatever it takes to find you someplace safe, I'll do it."

"Now," a southern accent draws on from the corner, "that is the attitude I'm looking for, Ice-Pop!"

One of the settlers, a man with a perfectly moussed pompadour and side burns sharp enough to slice pie, turns away from the terminal he was tinkering with. Unlike the other settlers, positivity and life still sparkle in his eyes. He cross his arms, leaning against a file cabinet.

"Ice-Pop, I'm Sturges. You up for some greasy work?"

"Sure... Watcha got?"

"There's a crashed vertibird on the roof," Sturges continues. "Pretty hard to miss, actually. Anyway, there's a suit of power armor and a functional machine gun up there. However, the only fusion core we've got to power the damn armor is in the basement, locked up with a security terminal. I can probably hack into the terminal, but can you pop into that tin can and show them raiders who runs the Commonwealth?"

Dean almost cracks a smile.

"Y'know," he says, feeling more relieved that there are good people left in the world, "that does sound a little fun..."

"Haha! Freedom, here we come!"


	5. Death Comes With Claws

Dean has never been a tech kind of guy. Needless to say, hacking the terminal was not his quickest or easiest task. It's a simple lock, a four letter password chosen from a list of possibilities. However, the unnecessary amount of symbols, codes, and punctuation make it confusing to pinpoint the actual passcode, not to mention the vague and confusing clues. Four tries to find the password, and then you're locked out for 10 seconds. It doesn't seem too bad, but when time is of the essence, it's excruciating.

Several lock outs and angry guesses later, the terminal finally takes a password. Dean yanks open the security door and rips the fusion core from the generator, taking off to the roof.

A suit of T-45 power armor stands limp by the crashed vertibird. Tools surround it, showing someone has been tinkering with it, but power armor is useless without a fusion core to power it. Slamming the core into the armor, he turns the valve and climbs into the armor. A surge of adrenaline runs through his veins with the strength and protection power armor offers. Ripping off the minigun, he stands on the edge of the roof.

A new set of raiders has piled onto the streets below. The feedback of Preston's musket muddles with the angry cries of raiders trying to break down the locked door. With power and pleasure, Dean leaps from the roof. He lands with a thud behind the raiders.

"Party's just beginning, boys," Dean laughs, hoisting the minigun to his hip. He mows them down where they stand. A bloody heap of bodies is left to rot on the stairs. The adrenaline of the power surging through his body overshadows the wisps of remorse, but he'll have to get used to the new world soon.

It's kill or be killed.

Bullets ricochet off the rusty metal armor that protects him. He turns to see several raiders left, hiding in the alleys. As he moved toward them, metallic thuds and crashes fill the air. Down the road, the metal covering for the sewers flies up, crashing into another building. A giant of a monster crawls out, green, scaly, with horns and claws to kill. The reptilian-like monster roars and jumps, sending things close in its proximity flying.

It turns toward the raiders.

Dean watches in horror as the monster shoves its clawed hand into the belly of a raider, ripping him in half. It swallows half the raider, chewing him to bits with just several bites. Blood coats its green scales. The raiders cower, but continue to shoot at the beast. Their weak weapons do hardly any damage.

Dean takes action, pulling the minigun into a firing position, letting loose on the monster. Throwing a limp corpse to the side, the creature charges Dean. Dean doesn't cease fire. The spray of bullets slows it down, leaving some damage as well, but it's not enough to pacify it. The creature jumps onto Dean, pinning him to the ground.

Blood drips onto the visor of Dean's helmet. Through the rusted metal, he can smell the rank and rotten breath blowing onto him. The gun is pinned between their torsos, but his hand can't reach the trigger to blow the monster off of him. A muscled hand, with knives for nails, raises as the monster prepares to rip off his armor. Dean prepares for death.

Then Baby comes soaring through the sky.

She lands on the back of the monster. Her weight isn't enough to push it off of Dean, but it's enough to sock the monster. It shrieks as Baby sinks her teeth in its flesh. She growl, using all her weight to get the creature off of Dean. She moves it just enough for Dean to move his hand back to the gun. His finger wraps around the trigger, and the monster flies off him with a spray of bullets.

Baby jumps off as the creature tumbles onto its back. Seeing the fresh, bloody wound on its abdomen, she jumps at it, teeth white, wet, ready to kill. The monster howls in pain and anguish, unable to move due to the pain of the wound. Dean is back on his feet, standing over the giant mutant lizard.

"It's bedtime, bitch," he growls, shooing Baby out of the way.

The orange fire of bullets puts the monster to rest.

Dean turns to see the settlers gathered around the door, staring in fear and amazement.

"T-that just happened, right?" Chuck asks shakily. "You guys saw that."

"Of course we saw it, dumbass!" Marcy Long snaps. Her husband, Jun, cowers, knowing the extent of her rage. "If you weren't high all the time, maybe you'd be able to actually know what is real!"

Preston pushes past the tired and bickering settlers, looking up at Dean. Out of power armor, they are the same height, but now Dean is a savior, a god, in rusted and dinged suit of armor. He towers above Preston, worn yet exhilarated from the fight. Preston looked as if he could jump at Dean in any moment, encasing him in a hug.

"There is no way I can thank you, sir," he breathes. "You've done the Minutemen a great service. Would you like to join our settlers? It's not much, but we'll do our best to provide you protection and resources, though you may have that covered."

"That's a kind offer, but I have to be on my way," Dean answers, avoiding eye contact with the settlers. "But, I have a Mr. Handy up at Sanctuary. His name is Bobby and he'll help you settle in the old neighborhood. Just tell him Dean sent you."

"Thank you, thank you. Do you need any help getting where you're going?"

"Uh, well..."

"Diamond City has something for you, kid," Chuck says. "With all the feedback the sight is giving me, I'm surprised they aren't shining you're name in the sky. You've got some shit to solve."

"Nobody knows me in this world, why would this Jewel City place, know, or even care? Whatever you're talking about is bullshit!"

Dean turns his back to Chuck, until something catches his ear.

"You lost someone. They're... I mean he is still alive. Diamond City holds your answers."

"What the hell?" Dean breathes. "How did you... Never mind. Where is Diamond City?"

"Downtown amidst the city ruins," Preston explains. "It used to be an old baseball park, but now it's the most successful settlement out there. It's known as the Green Jewel of the Commonwealth, as it's surrounded by a large green wall. Trust me, you won't miss it."

"Baseball Park?" Dean asks. "Are you telling me Fenway Park is still standing?"

Being confronted with confused stares, Dean assumes the settlers don't know of Fenway Park. To them, Diamond City is a walled sanctuary of solitude and safety.

"Forget it. But, thank you," Dean shakes Preston's hand. "I'll be on my way. Sanctuary is just up the hill. Tell Bobby I'll be back soon."

"Are you alright to go on the road alone?" Preston asks, holding Dean's hand firmly. Concern is apparent in his expression.

"I'll be fine, I know the city. Plus, you have people to watch after. Keep them safe."

Baby whimpers at his feet, nudging his calf. He looks into her large, sad eyes. Before the question even crosses his mind, it's answered.

"You can take her," Chuck sighs. "She'll keep you safe. She's a wandering road dog, anyway."

"Thank you," Dean whispers. Together, him and Baby leave the Museum of Freedom, Dean not knowing the world that awaits him.


	6. Fire Support

Dean isn't sure if he cares for the silence of the post-nuclear Commonwealth. The factories stand silent. No cars zoom through the streets. Even the grossly mutated bugs are playing the silent game. All Dean hears is the broken pavement crunching under his boots.

The sun burns down on the back of his neck. The air always feels dusty and gritty, now with everything dead and crumbling. He glances up at the cloudless sky, his eyes soon lingering to the crumbling overpasses. Skeletons of cars hang precariously from disjointed concrete and metal, ready to fall and crush some poor travelling soul. He scurries under it, not wanting to be that soul.

As he's passing Corvega Assembly Plant, dreading its silence, his Pip-Boy pings on his arm. Baby whimpers at the noise, eyes frightened, but body poised to fight, to kill.

"It was nothing, girl," Dean says, scratching her ears. He returns to his Pip-Boy, switching to the radio screen. Two radio stations appear on the display: Diamond City Radio and Military Frequency AF95.

"A military frequency?" He breathes. "Out here?"

He quickly switches to the frequency, ignoring his own quest.

"This is Scribe Haylen of Reconnaissance Squad Gladius to any unit in transmission range," a young voice states in a strong voice. "Authorization Arx, Ferrum. Nine. Five. Our unit has sustained casualties and we're running low on supplies. We're requesting support or evac from our position at the Cambridge Police Station. Automated message repeating..."

Dean knows he has to travel to Diamond City and find Sam, but as the distress call continues, he makes a detour in hopes to help someone else. He knows where the station is, having spent much time there when he was younger. Cambridge is harder to navigate when the buildings are falling apart with the heaviness of time, but the popping of bullets quickly pulls him to the station.

A soldier stands stiffly in power armor, firing off at rotting, human-like creatures as they growl, sprinting towards him. Compared to Dean's suit of T-45 power armor, the soldier's T-60 power armor is in new and pristine condition. Red paint brands the limbs with an ensignia on the chest, one that Dean has never seen before. But now is not the time for questions and chitter chatter.

He runs in, armor clunking and creaking, and assists the soldier. As he fires off at the zombie-like creatures, he takes notes of two more soldiers at the door of the Cambridge Police Station. One is lying on the ground, armor off, jumpsuit soaked with blood. The other attends to his wounds. Dean pulls his attention from them, turning back to the hostiles charging at him and the power armor-clad soldier.

The creatures deteriorate easily. A single shot can rip an entire limb off, sometimes kill them altogether. They aren't a difficult enemy to face, nothing like the monster of Concord, but they fight in herds, their numbers never ceasing. Dean's Geiger counter beeps on his Pip-Boy when they get close enough to hit, spit, and jump onto him. The more monsters he kills, the closer he comes to realizing the truth of them.

These are not a new monster.

These creatures were humans once, now horribly irradiated, rotting.

But Dean continues to shoot.

Soon, the herd dissipates and no irradiated humans charge Dean and the other soldiers. Dean makes an effort to leave, to continue to Diamond City, but the armored soldier stops him.

"That was some outstanding marksmanship, civilian," the soldier congratulates him. "Our most sincere apologies. But if you don't mind me asking, what is a civilian like yourself doing in these parts of the Commonwealth?"

Before Dean can answer, the young soldier nursing the wounded stands and faces them.

"Permission to speak, sir?" she inquires.

"Permission granted, Haylen."

"I modified the radio tower to further broadcast a signal into the Commonwealth asking for assistance, though it isn't strong enough to reach the Prydwen or any other Brotherhood troops."

"Thank you, Haylen." Danse turns back to Dean, eyebrows now knit in confusion. "Are you from a nearby settlement, or just another wanderer?"

Dean, not wanting to reveal too much, answers, "Sanctuary, a settlement by Concord."

"And why did you assist us?"

"I was passing through and heard the radio frequency. You sounded like you needed help."

"Hmm," Danse seems skeptical. "Not many people in the Commonwealth are open to help those in need. Most have a personal, deceptive mission, but, I suppose we can trust you for now. I'm Paladin Saul Jonfield Danse. Scribe Haylen and Knight Rhys are my companions. Feel free to join us inside, civilian."

Dean follows the trio into Cambridge Police Station. The place is in shambles from being raided time and time again. A couple of sleeping bags are pushed into corners. Haylen tends to Rhys with what little supplies they have, though he isn't in critical condition. Danse beckons Dean to the receptionist's old desk.

"You're probably wondering who we are," he says, wiping the dirt from his tired face. "We are soldiers of the Brotherhood of Steel, a prestigious military focused on protecting what's left of this world from inhuman monstrosities, such as super mutants, ghouls, and synths. My team was sent here on a recon mission. A previous Brotherhood troop has gone missing, but in more important goals, we've received information that the Institute is located somewhere in the Commonwealth."

"The Institute? What is that?"

Danse's look of grand surprise immediately has Dean regretting what he had said. But Danse sighs and continues on with his mission report.

"I guess not everybody knows what it is. The institute is the biggest threat to our world. A hidden organization, it's the leading cause of kidnappings in the Commonwealth. Many refer to them as the Boogeyman. Many times, the kidnapped are replaced with synths, robots created for the sole purpose of replicating human functions. Machines can't replace us. The Brotherhood of Steel will assure that."

"You said they're the ones kidnapping people?" Dean asks, feeling queasy. Danse nods. Dean doesn't respond, his silence even causing Haylen and Rhys to quiet from across the room. Finally, Dean says, a lump in his throat, "My brother was kidnapped."


End file.
